Chapter 1 part 1 of 3

Chapter 2 part 1 of 4

Drake Manning was in the middle of negotiations with Ms Kapoor at her antique store. She had acquired some very rare 16th and 17th century Delft tiles. When she had contacted Drake and describe the tiles to him, he had known straight away what they were and how valuable. He was also aware that 16th and 17th century Delft tiles were recently stolen and not a small quantity but over one hundred of them valued at many hundreds of thousands of pounds from an avid collector in the Netherlands. A collection he had amassed over forty years.

He informed Ms Kapoor of this and stated he would come right away to assess her acquisitions, if her tiles were legitimate. They could then discuss the best possible method for their sale.

Drake was impressed with the tile collection and none of the items was part of the stolen collection. They were beautiful and in mint condition, each with their own unique design. He wondered if Ms Kapoor was aware of the true value of her merchandise. He was prepared to reward her handsomely for the tiles.

However, if she knew their true worth he would use his charms to persuade her to sell the tiles through his auction house, with the right collectors in attendance. The commission on just one of those tiles would be ridiculous and he knew just the people to invite to such an auction.

Drake met Ms Kapoor at an antique fair in Paris. He couldn’t recall exactly what year. He remembered how impressed he was with her natural ability to seek out valuable items. She had been young, in her early twenties although she looked much younger – with little actual experience yet she knew instinctively when apiece was rare or collectable.

He noticed her the minute she entered the large hall. She was striking; her hair was long, shiny blue-black in colour – clipped back with an antique jade bone hair clip; the rest left loose lying down her back resting on her firm plump bottom. Her movements, feline precision. She wore a black tailored Armani two-piece trouser suit that accentuated her curves yet maintaining the air of professionalism. She could have easily been mistaken for an Indian Bollywood star.

Their eyes met across the crowded room and she made a B-line towards him. Hand outstretched she said “You’re Drake Manning? I’m Binny Kapoor. I’ve read your book on antiques for beginners. Please don’t think me rude but I thought you would have been much older. The photo on your book does you no justice.” She smiled.

Drake was taken aback by her plain speaking but found it amusing and began to laugh. Taking her hand, he confirmed he was indeed Drake Manning. For although she was bold when she addressed him, his name had been put to him in the form of a question as if she were not sure.

They had spent the rest of the day together moving through the tables of exhibits, pausing at particular tables of interest; purchasing jewellery, figurines, watches and china. She had shown remarkable good taste so he allowed her to purchase several pieces, which initially he had intended to buy, and the main reason he attended.

They had become firm friends and associates after that meeting. She would call him for advice and to value certain items, as well as sell a number of rare finds through his auction house. Theirs had become a beneficial partnership. No emotional attachment though he got the feeling that Binny (although he never called her Binny to her face, it was always Ms Kapoor) wanted something more. Now that he thought about it. It was possible they had known each other for about three years or maybe a little over.

He recalled her asking if he would be her plus one for a wedding where she was to be a bridesmaid. He had declined as his brother Damon was also to be married on the same day in France. He often wondered if their relationship could have turned into something more had he been able to attend. He doubted it but he would never be sure. The right atmosphere, a little alcohol – who knew what could have happened.

Here he was now about to take advantage of her trusting nature. It was such a rare find he could not help himself for wanting to under-price her for the Delft tiles. After all ‘business is business.’ He had begun to explain to Ms Kapoor what a gem she had found when he began to feel strange. He placed the tile he was holding on the counter and ask Ms Kapoor for a glass of water, reaching into his inside pocket for his medication.

Stumbling, he sat down on a black leather Queen Anne Chesterfield Library Reading chair. Popping two of the tablets into his mouth, washing them down with the water Ms Kapoor handed to him. However, the feeling did not go away and he started to feel as if someone was stomping on his chest. His breathing became shallow; the colour slowly drained from his face as Ms Kapoor looked on in horror. The change in his demeanour was sudden; she could not believe her eyes.

Drake just managed to tell Ms Kapoor to call an ambulance. “Tell them I have a congenital heart defect, my card is in my wallet”, as his eyes rolled back in his head, his body went limp and started to slump into the chair. Panic struck, Binny ran to the phone and called the emergency service. When the paramedics arrived, Drake’s heart had stopped beating they resuscitated him on site.

The ambulance brought Drake to St. Mary’s Hospital in Chatham. He had suffered complete closure of the heart valves, which prevented forward blood flow, causing serious damage to the valves. He was on a respirator fighting for his life. The valves cannot be repaired. The health professionals were surprised that he had lasted this long, and put it down to the sheer will power of the patient. It was determined Drake needed a heart transplant.

Tissue and blood sample were taken and the results placed in the database for a donor. The computer informed the staff that there was a critical patient in their hospital. This patient’s location being a room a few yards down the corridor who was a perfect match. Instructions were given to have theatre on stand by and to prepare Mr Drake Manning for surgery.

*****

The event of the last half hour had shaken Binny. Her legs were weak. She had to sit down – falling into the chair that Drake had recently vacated. As much as she wanted to go with him, she could not follow him in the ambulance as she had a client who would be arriving any minute to pick up a doll, restored by her friend Tessie. She also needed the time to collect her thoughts.

She told herself what she needed was a strong drink. She went into her back room and poured herself a stiff brandy; downing it with one gulp. The warm liquid sliding down her throat seem to do the trick. She was beginning to feel like herself again. Once she’d finished with her client she would close the store and go to the hospital to check on Drake.